


i waste my time dreaming of you

by writing_good_vibes



Category: Halloween (Movies - Zombie), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Daddy Kink, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, Older Man/Younger Woman, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Riding, Tenderness, fingering ?? sort of, sheriff brackett is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29737797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_good_vibes/pseuds/writing_good_vibes
Summary: Feeling left behind in your hometown, your long-time crush on Sheriff Brackett is what keeps you going.(Sheriff Brackett x Reader)
Relationships: Lee Brackett (Halloween)/Reader
Kudos: 2





	1. it could feel like falling in love

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on a brad dourif roll lately, so please have this terrible, terrible sheriff brackett fic.  
> smut will be in chapter 2.

You wouldn't say you were friends with Annie Brackett. You and her had been in the same class since pre-school, and when you got to high school you been in a lot of the same classes then too. You saw her frequently around town or in the store, that being the beauty of small town life, you supposed. Because of this, your parents were moderately friendly with Annie's dad, Sheriff Brackett. 

You were the kinda girl that people's parents remembered because you were "nice", nothing _special_ , just "nice". Even after leaving school, you often saw the parents of your old classmates around and about, and they would almost always stop to say hi, asking how you were and, in turn, telling you about their own child, who you likely hadn't spoken to since elementary. 

Sheriff Bracket was no different. He gave you a wave if he drove past in his patrol car, stopped to say hi if you passed him on the street and asked how you were if you crossed in the aisles at the store. Same old, same old.

Where Sheriff Brackett differed from the other parents was that he was the source of the biggest crush you'd ever had. Ever since you were 15 you'd been in love with Annie's dad, with the _sheriff_ of your tiny suburban town.

You knew it was a weird crush. You knew your friends, even just other girls in your grade, had crushes on slight older people (usually a particularly hot teacher, or a heart-throb actor), in their 30's, maybe. Other people did _not_ have crushes on their classmates' dads.

But there was something about Sheriff Brackett that just wouldn't leave your mind. He had piercing blue eyes, clearer than any you had seen before. Despite their distinctly pale hue, their intensity made you feel like you were looking up into the openness of the night sky. His hair was starting to go grey at the temples, but it was soft an curled prettily around his collar. He had a sharp nose, sharp cheeks, a certain distinguished silhouette that made you think you understood the devotion a poet must have for their muse. His accent gave some of his words a slight drawl to them that made you shiver. He was the man you thought about in the middle of the night with your hand between your legs, sweat prickling on your back beneath the covers. 

You were _in love._

***

Now, you were in a rut. You'd graduated from high school, but missed the mass exodus to college that the rest of your graduating class seemed to partake in. It wasn't that you didn't _want_ to go to college, but you just felt you weren't certain enough about yourself to pick your major yet. You didn't want to dive in without considering all of your options.

And so, there you were, living with your parents, doing odd hours at odd jobs around town to make a bit of easy money.

You started to see Sheriff Brackett around much more frequently, simply by virtue of working in multiple places and having little else to do in your spare time besides wandering the aisles of the convenience store or watching every double feature they showed at the movie theatre.

One of your jobs during the week was in the coffee house on Main Street selling, unsurprisingly, coffee as well as tea and cakes and sandwiches from the panini maker. 

Sheriff Brackett dropped in most mornings for a coffee before heading to the station.

"Morning, sweetie," he said, leaning nonchalantly. He never actually gave his order anymore, you knew what he wanted.

"Good morning, Sheriff," you replied, voice raising to a slightly higher pitch than normal. Busying yourself with brewing the coffee, you kept your back to the Sheriff as he asked you about how things were going. You found it almost impossible to look at him directly. 

"Ah, I'm okay," you shrugged, sneaking a glance over your shoulder at him. He was smiling at you.

"That's good, that's good."

You filled a cup with coffee and placed the lid on top without pressing it down, you knew he put milk and one sugar in from the self service table at the end of the counter.

Although he asked about your life, he never really offered any information about Annie. You knew she had gone off to college out-of-state, you thought she was majoring in psychology, but you weren't sure. 

"Y'know, you work too hard, sweetie," he commented, "Everywhere I go I see you working a different job."

You shrugged again, "Gets me out of the house. And the hours aren't actually that many if you count them up, I guess I just fill in the odd hour here and there."

"Don't forget to take some time for yourself too though, honey. Don't spread yourself too thin," he said, his voice soft but firm, like he actually meant it. 

"I will, Sheriff," you nodded fiercely. 

He smiled at you, with a warmth in his eyes that made your stomach tighten, before leaving, waving goodbye with his coffee cup in hand.

You breathed a sigh of relief, discreetly pressing your thighs together to relieve just a bit of the pressure. 

***

Over the course of the next month or so, your conversations with the Sheriff became even more frequent an grew in duration.

You started to relax a little, voice not going AWOL every time you spoke to him, being able to reveal a little more of your life, of your interest, to him beyond the usual pleasantries. You found yourself telling him about the latest book you were reading, or the plot of a movie you watched on TV the night before. He always smiled and he always listened, his enjoyment coming simply from your _own_ enjoyment of telling him about the things you loved.

This was all well and good, but you didn't want to kid yourself that this was something that it definitely wasn't. He was just being friendly, you were just a school friend of his daughter, he was the Sheriff, he had a duty to be nice to every left-behind "nice girl" in town. He was more than double your age. 

But you smiled and simpered and hoped beyond hope that he might feel the same way.

***

"Hey, sweetie," Sheriff Brackett walked into the coffee house one morning, smiling at you with twinkling eyes. 

"Hi, Sheriff," you turned to start brewing the coffee, but he leaned towards you pointedly. 

You waited, assuming he just wanted something other than his usual.

"How have you been, darlin'?" 

You almost frowned in confusion, but caught yourself just in time, "I'm okay."

"I'm glad, I'm glad," he smiled, seemingly distracted, "Listen, honey, I - I don't want to overstep or anything -"

Your breath hitched.

" - but I was wondering if you might have any plans this weekend?"

This was not happening. It _couldn't_ be happening. He might just be asking innocently, just assuming (wrongly) that you, a young woman, would have plans with friends over the weekend.

"Oh, nothing much," you begin, "there's a double feature on at the theatre that I was thinking of catching."

"Oh yeah?" the Sheriff nodded, as though deep in thought, "Which movies?" 

"They're new releases, one is called _Death Proof,_ I'm pretty sure."

The Sheriff raised his eyebrows in interest, "Interesting."

You chuckled nervously, "Yeah..." You hadn't been this nervous around Sheriff Brackett since you first started working at the coffee house and the daily interaction with him had seemed too much to bare at times.

"Look, sweetie, I don't want to - want to make you uncomfortable, and if you think I'm being some - some dirty old man," he laughed uneasily, "you just send me on my way, but I think it'd be real nice, I'd be honoured, in fact, if you would maybe allow me to join you this weekend?"

Your heart just about stopped in your chest. He was... asking you out?

It took you a moment to compose yourself, to loosen your vocal chords enough to answer him, but his own nerves (and it unsettled you to no end thinking he could possibly be nervous about _anything_ ) had convinced him that your moment of silence was the beginning of a polite rejection.

Just as you went to speak, he held his hand up to stop you, shaking his head more to himself than to anyone else, "No, it's okay, I shouldn't have asked, it was - it was very inappropriate of me. I'm - " 

"No, wait, Sheriff," you interjected, taking his hand in yours tentatively, "I'd - I'd really, _really_ like that."

He looked back at you, a very pleased but very disbelieving look on his face. "Really?"

"Yeah," letting go of his hand, you blushed a little, voice lifting an octave out of anxiety.

He smiled, still not quite believing you would really want to see him in your free time, but suggested a time and plans to meet that Saturday.

When you confirmed his suggestions, he loped off out of the coffee house without ordering, no longer needing the coffee to put a spring in his step.

***

Saturday rolled around.

"I'm meeting Louise tonight," you told your parents as you pulled your coat on in the kitchen.

"Are you staying over at her house?" your mom asked, drinking from the mug of tea she always had after dinner.

"Yeah probably, we'll be out late."

"Okay, well just let us know what time you'll be coming home tomorrow."

"Will do," you kissed your mom on the cheek, "I love you."

You picked up your keys from the dresser as you walked towards the front door, "Bye, dad."

He waved you goodbye and you headed out, walking in the direction of Main Street.

Okay, so you _did_ lie to your parents about who you would be with. Louise was your best friend, but she was also a safe bet as far as excuses go. It's not that you thought your parents would disapprove (although they definitely would, no matter how good a guy Sheriff Brackett was, he was twice your age, literally your own dad's age, which you did think most parents would consider a negative attribute in their daughters date), but even without the age gap, you didn't really want to bring up the subject of dating with your parents, period. You didn't date. It just wasn't a part of your life. You'd never had a date to prom, never been to the movies with a boy (until now, you supposed), never even so much as held hands with a boy in grade school.

You were, in all sense, a total virgin.

And telling your parents that your first date was with the town Sheriff was not an issue you wanted to broach before the event, you were nervous enough as it was.

So, you headed up to Main Street, checking your reflection in every car window you passed. You did not consider yourself good looking; you thought you were plain at best, frumpy at worst. Not the sort of girl that middle-aged men fantasised about anyway.

But there you were, on your way to your first date ever with your first ever crush.

***

As far as dates go, you were monumentally impressed. You may not have had the experience necessary for a solid comparison, but Sheriff Brackett more than lived up to any prior idea you might have had about dating.

When you got out of the movie theatre, Sheriff Brackett ("Sweetie, you can just call me Lee," he laughed) offered, nay, _insisted_ he drive you home. Part of you was flattered, another part of you was disappointed he wanted to drive you back to _your_ home.

Climbing into the passenger seat, you twiddled you thumbs as he too got into the car. Is this the moment where moves are made? The car was in a secluded part of the mostly-deserted theatre parking lot. You could kiss him, you thought, except you had absolutely no idea how one went about these things. Did you just do it? Did you really just lean forward and kiss someone if that is what you wanted to do?

As you sat deliberating, you didn't notice that Sheriff Brackett - Lee - hadn't started the car yet.

When you finally looked over at him, you saw a look in his eye, the intense look that made your heart stutter.

You had to do it.

Leaning forward over the middle console, you closed your eyes and hoped for the best.

One beat, then two, then the soft press of lips against your own. You let out a breath through your nose that you didn't realise you'd been holding.

The kiss was soft and gentle, he didn't push you beyond what you gave, didn't touch you besides holding your cheek in the palm of his work worn hand.

"Why don't we go back to yours instead?" you whispered, barely audible, when you pulled away.

"Don't you need to get home?" he asked, concern making his voice a little firmer.

A blush rose on your cheeks again, "I - I told my parents I'd be home tomorrow, that I was - was staying at a friend's house."

Sheriff Brackett tsk'd gently, the response of a man who probably knew the feeling of being told white lies by his daughter. You knew Annie had spent her fair share of school nights with Paul rather than Laurie.

But he smiled, turning the key in the ignition, "If you're sure, honey."

"I'm sure."

***

When you arrived at his house, you awkwardly walked to the front door together, a safe six inches between you.

He unlocked the door and stepped aside to let you in first.

You'd been here before, as a child, for one of Annie's birthday parties. You didn't remember much of it, you didn't realise as a grade-schooler that those memories would mean everything to your teenage self, if only you _could_ remember what the Sheriff had been like back then. 

"Sit down, honey, make yourself as home."

He took your coat and hung it up on a peg with his own as you made your way to the sitting room.

He sat down beside you on the sofa and, tentatively, you leaned in to kiss him again. 

It was another slow, easy kiss. He still didn't push you. This was nothing, you'd seen kids do heavier petting than this in the cross over between 4th and 5th period.

Your hand crept up to his chest, gripping his shoulder slightly. This seemed to give him a signal as his own hand moved to your waist, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against your shirt.

When you pulled away this time you sighed, not wanting to loose the warmth of his lips.

"Listen, I've - I've never..." you trailed off, looking anywhere but his face, "... done this before. Any of it."

He chuckled, but it wasn't unkind. "You could have fooled me, sweetie," he teased. 

You pulled back a bit with embarrassment. God, what must he think of you? 20 years old and still a blushing virgin, reduced to jelly by a peck on the lips. 

"But I want to," you forced yourself to look him in the eye, "I've wanted to for so long. I've imagined it, imagined you being my first."

At that he sucked in a breath. It obviously stirred something in him, something protective but also something more passionate. You wanted to give yourself to him, give him this piece of you that no one else would ever have.

"Oh, sweetie," his hand stroked your cheek gently, "Are you absolutely sure? I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything, absolutely _anything_ that you aren't ready for."

You were finding it easier and easier to keep his gaze, as the prospect of doing far kore than just kissing crept closer and closer. "I'm sure, I'm ready, I - I wan to be with you."

He leant his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, "Oh sweetie, darlin', I'll make it so special, don't you worry, we can take it slow, okay sweetie?"

You nodded, heat pooling between your legs as you kissed him again. 


	2. in the heat of the moment

Normally, he wasn’t the type of guy to have sex on the first date. What can he say, he’s something of a romantic. But tonight, Sheriff Brackett couldn't believe his luck. Couldn't believe that a young woman like you would even _consider_ going out with him, let alone letting him be your _first._ _T_ hat fact alone stirred something deep within him. An almost paternal need to protect you lurked in the back of his mind, you were relying totally on him to guide you, to look after you, to make it a positive experience that you wouldn't regret.

However, the almost overwhelming need to touch you, now you'd given him permission, was becoming an insistent thought.

But he hesitated for a moment, was he taking advantage of you? Over the weeks and months after you had graduated from high school, when he started seeing you all the more frequently, he'd been arguing with himself. He was the _Sheriff_ and you were a girl he had known since you were in _kindergarten._ He'd seen you in school plays and playing pass the parcel at Annie's birthday party; but he'd also seen you collect your diploma and be run ragged at the coffee house during the morning rush. 

When he finally talked himself into asking you on a date, he almost immediately regretted it. You were a young, beautiful woman, he should have had no business even _thinking_ about you in that way.

And O how he did think about you. Thought about the way your eyes were normally downcast but, when you lifted them to his face, he could see the warmth and intelligence behind them. He thought about the way you couldn't keep your hands still when you started talking about something you were interested in. Thought about the feeling of your skin when your fingers touched as you passed him his morning coffee. Thought about what it would feel like to kiss you, to watch you drop your guarded nature in a far more tantalising way.

Sometimes, in the dark of the night, with no witnesses to his thoughts, he thought of _you._ His hand down his boxers, his lip bitten raw to suppress how embarrassingly turned on he got just _thinking_ about you.

But somehow, _somehow_ you agreed to see him. And somehow you wanted him too. The feather-light touch of your lips against his, you were so unsure of yourself, he wanted to look you in the eye and tell you that you were more than enough, that you were everything he wanted and more.

***

"Listen, I've - I've never..." you trailed off, looking anywhere but his face, "... done this before. Any of it."

And he fucking hated himself that your words went straight to his dick. He shouldn't get off on being your first, but your gentleness and tentative touches were things he hadn't experienced with a woman in a long time. You trusted him enough to let him do this with you, to treat you right. You’d waited for _him_.

He reassured you, he'd make it special, he _promised_. His hand cradled your head as you leaned in to kiss him again. 

***

You didn't know what you were doing, but you were drawn to the warmth of his skin. You'd gone this long without the intimate touch of another and, slowly but surely, you started to relax. It was strange knowing that you were wanted, that his man (who's face you saw every time you'd touched yourself since you were 15) was yours to kiss and to hold.

You rallied your courage and moved your hand across his chest, feeling for the buttons of his shirt. His own hand, the one which wasn't on your waist, moved to help, although it actually slowed the process down as you both fumbled to undo the buttons.

The hand on your waist shifted to move around your back, pulling you closer to him. You felt so safe in his embrace.

The kiss deepened naturally as you melted into him. He still didn't move faster than you did, but when you opened your mouth slightly, he returned the gesture.

Slowly. Everything was happening so slowly. Although you were nervous, the ache in your core was building, simmering within you and you needed more. Cautiously, your hand danced lower, fingertips just dipping below his waistband. 

You heard him gasp, just barely, at your advance.

"Sweetie, do you -" he began, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours, "We can go to - to my bedroom, if you want? I want you to be comfortable."

His eyes, normally so clear, were hazy with pleasure. 

"Yeah," you breathed.

He took your hand and made your way upstairs and down the hall. You tried not to think about it too hard when you passed what was clearly Annie's bedroom. There were still butterfly stickers on the white wood, a poster of a boyband took up the lower half of the door.

He opened the door at the end of the hall, letting you into his personal domain. He quickly switched the lamp on next to the bed, illuminating everything but the furthest corners of the room.

Before you could ask what to do as you stood hesitantly in the doorway, Sheriff Brackett - _Lee -_ kissed you again, drawing you with him as he backed towards the bed.

In a rare moment of confidence, and because this was how you'd always imagined it would go, you coaxed him into sitting down on the bed, back against the headboard. Planting your hands on his shoulders, you straddled his lap. His pupils almost swallowed the blue in his eyes, turning them into the night sky you'd always thought them to be.

"Oh, sweetie," he pulled you against him, "it's up to you, it's all up to you."

Kissing him almost felt like second nature then, you'd initiated more kisses on that one night than you'd had in the 20 years leading up to it. His moustache was rough in contrast to the tenderness of his mouth.

With your lips on his, you began to rock your hips slowly, the friction drawing the tiniest noises from you. 

You felt his hands, warm and worn, skim up your thighs, dancing under your skirt to grip your flesh firmly.

You picked up the pace, rocking against him faster as you felt him harden beneath you. It wasn't enough. You reached for his hand, your fingers around his wrist, and directed it between your legs wordlessly.

His fingers just barely skimmed your panties when he let out a rough breath, murmuring against your lips, "Darlin', oh darlin'."

His thumb rubbed circles over the soaked fabric, right over your clit.

You gasped sharply. It felt so _different_ when someone else was touching you, doing the same thing you did on your own night after night.

"You're so wet," his voice low, like he could barely believe it, "you're wet for _me._ "

"Please," your hips moved even more against him, "I am, I am."

"How long have you wanted this, sweetie?"

"For -" you practically whimpered as he slipped his fingers beneath your panties, "for years."

"Ohh," his moan was quiet and drawn out, "oh, baby."

His fingers were slick with your wetness, sliding between your folds and circling your clit.

Your eyes widened with shock, you'd never felt anything like it, his slim fingers skilful but foreign. "Oh, oh please."

"Do you like this? Does it feel good?"

"Yeah, yeah," you were panting, the pleasure intensifying in a way you'd never felt before. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but when you felt him pepper kisses across your cheeks, you opened them to look at him.

He could hardly breath as he took in the sight before him; you rocking your hips against his bulge, looking at him like _that._ Like you were in ecstasy, heavy lidded and open mouthed.

He kept his fingers on your clit, not daring to push them inside you yet. He wanted to take things slowly, let you relax and loosen up before he went any further, if you would even _want_ to go further. He was trying to prepare himself for the possibility of holding off for another time, in case it all got too much for you.

But you'd waited long enough. Tonight was the night and as you pressed yourself against his hand, you almost cried as you felt your climax approaching.

"Please," you whined, "daddy, please."

Realising what you had said, you froze. Shit. Why did you say that? You felt your face flush with embarrassment. 

You turned your head away, looking over at the night stand. You'd ruined things.

You felt his hand on your cheek, he turned your face to look at him again, "Baby, it's okay, it's okay!" His eyes, although clouded with arousal managed to catch yours and held your gaze firmly for a moment. Then he leaned his forehead against yours. "Daddy's gonna make you feel so good." 

Your breath hitched. You thought it was impossible to be anymore turned on than you already were, what with his hand down your panties and the heat of his bulge beneath you, but that one word, _that one damn word_ made your heart pound in your chest.

In hindsight, you thought it was ironic that that whole evening you'd barely been able to call him by his first name, being so accustomed to using his title, but now you'd skipped straight past that and onto 'daddy'. 

He continued his ministrations, fingers working faster as you keened against him.

"Daddy, please," your words caught in your throat, you bounced slightly on his lap in anticipation. 

He caught your lips in another kiss. You moaned into it, feeling your climax approaching like a freight train. You rutted against him, desperate to ride out your high for as long as possible. 

***

It took you a minute to catch your breath afterwards.

You’d never had an orgasm so intense before. The feeling of someone else’s fingers, of the man you loved, touching you sent your head spinning in a way you could never have anticipated.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” Lee’s hand was combing through your hair, a comforting gesture that made you feel so safe and… and _loved._

“That was amazing,” you whispered shyly. Looking down, you saw his dick still straining at his trousers. Damn. You looked back at him guiltily, “I’m sorry, I”

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” he chuckled softly, “you matter more than me.”

“But I – I want to…” You didn’t actually know what you wanted to do. What did _he_ want you to do?

“Want to what, sweetie?” there was a teasing lilt to his voice, a mischievous glint in his eye. He wanted you to say it.

You shrugged, slightly exasperated, you didn’t know! “Should I – Should I suck you off?”

“Oh, baby,” he smiled against your lips as he kissed you, “Baby, only if you want to.”

You moved from his lap, a soreness in your hips from being spread for so long. You undid his trousers, hesitant but curious as you pulled him from his boxers. 


End file.
